


It's High School All Over Again

by kleine_aster



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Angst and Humor, Crack, High School, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-07-29
Updated: 2014-04-22
Packaged: 2017-11-11 00:47:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,785
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/472593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kleine_aster/pseuds/kleine_aster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Four former Robins get zapped back to high school due to inter-dimensional shenanigans. Back in their sixteen year old bodies, they face two challenges, a) getting along and b) survive high school or die trying.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I'm Glad You're Here

**Author's Note:**

> **Title:** It's High School All Over Again  
>  **Characters:** Jason Todd, Tim Drake (for now)  
>  **Summary:** Two former Robins get zapped back to high school due to inter-dimensional shenanigans. Back in their sixteen year old bodies, they face two challenges, a) getting along and b) survive high school or die trying.  
>  **Genre:** Crack, humor, some mini-angst.  
>  **Warnings:** Language.  
>  **Words:** 2,440  
>  **Universe:** Comicverse. AU-ish.  
>  **Notes:** I have no idea where I'm going with this, I'm serious. I wrote it for a crack challenge in my favorite writing community, 120 Minuten. It occurred to me that none of the Robins ever went through a normal high school experience, because they were either very busy, or dead, or Damian. So I came up with a scenario, and yes, there'll probably be several parts of this. But it's an experiment, so don't expect too much. XD

School bells.

He could hear school bells in the distance.

Jason Todd stirred, moaning. "Nooo," he pleaded, like he'd used to when Alfred came into his room to wake him after a long night of somersaulting into people's faces. "'nother five minutes. Please…"

He felt around for a pillow to plop over his head; those bells weren't quitting. They didn't sound that distant anymore, really, either; more like … uncomfortably close. 

There was no pillow. 

Somehow, he smelled fresh grass.

It had to be one of those dreams. He'd had them ever since he'd been a miserable teen. In them, he'd get up and go to school, but he'd find his classroom covered in blood and his classmates in a pile, all murdered because he hadn't been there in time. They'd have no faces, because he always had a hard time remembering their faces … the only features they'd have were those cold, dead, accusing eyes staring at him. And then, he'd hear that maniacal laugh, and then … and then … that voice would say …

"Hey, dork. You're not 'sposed to do that. Get moving!"

_Hey dork?_

"Whu - "

Jason shot up, and the bright morning sun almost blinded him when he opened his eyes. A leaf was stuck to his cheek. He was spread out underneath a tree, which explained the smell of grass, on what seemed to be a school yard, which explained the bells. But how …

He looked around. Huh. How did he end up here…?

Oh well. It happened.

He yawned. For whatever reason, he felt extremely well-rested, like he'd slept for years. That was weird, but it wasn't as if he couldn't use it – 

"Hey, are you deaf? I said move it. You're not allowed on the green!"

Jason looked up. He was being glared at by a tall, quarterback-looking type in a varsity jacket who looked about sixteen. That made him chuckle. Cute. The kid was feeling territorial about his school, so much so that was he was willing to take on a dude twice his size. How _sweet_. Jason himself had never known that school spirit, and this boy was exactly the kind of jock whose ass he'd always yearned to kick back then, only he couldn't because nobody could know that the orphaned little rich boy was actually the Boy Wonder. In hindsight, it all seemed ridiculous.

"Not allowed?" He echoed lazily, shielding his eyes from the sun. "That's too bad. This is a great spot."

The boy put his hands to his hips in a way he probably imagined was commanding respect. "Yeah. You heard me, son," he grunted. "I'm school grounds marshal, and you're going to listen to me!"

 _Son?_ Come on, now.

Smirking, Jason got to his feet. He had no intention to actually start something with this … child. The kid probably thought Jason was a hobo or a perv of some kind, which he couldn't be blamed for, and apart from that, he really was eager to get home and hit the shower.

He winked at him. " _School grounds marshal_? Is that like, a real thing these days, or is that something you made up and wrote in your scrapbook because you thought it sounded cool – "

The words died on his lips when he realized that he was standing, and the kid was _still_ taller than him.

That couldn't … that wasn't right.

Jason looked down at himself, and felt slow, mounting terror creep into his heart. He forgot all about the scowling quarterback. His hands started shaking. His hands … were so much smaller than they were supposed to be. He stared at his skinny-ish legs in a pair of blue jeans, his narrow hips, his scrawny-ish arms in a red shirt and worn-out leather jacket. 

It was devastating.

His fingers shot up to his head and he realized that he was wearing his black hair in a sleek, slicked-back 'do that he hadn't sported since he'd been Robin, and couldn't figure out if he'd rather wanted to emulate Bruce or Dick.

He was … he was that miserable teenager again.

And the bully was right. He looked like a total fucking 80's dork.

This had to be a nightmare. Had to be. _Had_ to be.

The quarterback flinched in surprise as Jason stumbled towards him, wild-eyed and looking like a madman … madboy?

"Punch me," he hissed.

"Wait what?" The kid took a step back, looking full-on disturbed now. "What are you, some weirdo?"

"Punch me!" Jason insisted, desperately. He had to snap out of this somehow, and a punch was as good a way as anything. "Are _you_ deaf, Biff Tannen?! It's not that hard! I'm giving you a freebie. Here. Punch me, _right fucking now_ -"

" _There_ you are!"

Jason turned around, and felt his jaw dislocate from the rest of his face, that's how hard it dropped to the floor.

Granted, he was used to the sight of Tim Drake coming at him at top speed. But not usually with a terrifying rigor mortis smile on his face. And addressing him like he was a puppy that got away.

And he was …

Oh hell, no.

Whatever it was, it had gotten to him, too. Tim Drake was sixteen again. He was even tinier and scrawnier than Jason was, looking like a nerdy 90's kid with his spiky hair and sneakers and his Green Day T-Shirt. He even had a pack of books flung over his shoulder like the obnoxious cover-child on a "Learning Is Fun!" brochure. It was mind-boggling and all kinds of wrong.

And somehow, that frozen smile was still the freakiest part.

"Hi!" He greeted them through his teeth, and then proceeded to fling his arm around Jason's shoulders. Jason flinched. The touch was unwelcome, but it was the one thing that he'd needed to confirm that this was, indeed, not a dream.

Well fuck.

Next to him, the pretender started babbling. "Hi. Hello. I'm Tim. This is my brother, Jason. We're new." 

Holy crap, his voice was so high. It would've been hilarious if all of this had been any less horrifying.

"Um. Whatever." That seemed to appease the school grounds marshal a little, even though Jason could tell that he was profoundly weirded out by the both of them. As he should be. 

He didn't offer his name in return. Instead, he pointed his finger at Jason. "He used the F-word."  
Jason rolled his eyes. Tattle tale.

"We don't use that 'round here," the boy droned.

"Yeah well," Jason shot back, "FYI, you're also not supposed to use 'deaf' as an insult, so."

The quarterback glared at him. "You did that, too!"

"Apologies for my brother," Tim said hastily. He was still grinning like a maniac. "We transferred from an inner-city school."

His arm around Jason's shoulder might have looked friendly from the outside, but it was slowly taking on a vice-like quality. Jason could've flung the entirety of Tim Drake across the yard without trouble of course, but it was probably advisable not to hold the bully's attention any longer.

He had to talk to Tim alone, soon. And then they had to find the person responsible, and then kill that person.

"Uh. Yeah," he mumbled. "It's pretty rough where we're from. I was just … "

He looked at the quarterback dude, and then at Tim Drake, who seemed all kinds of on edge underneath that smile, and he knew what he was expected to do.

"I…I'm sorry I said that," he grumbled. "And I'm sorry I sat under your dumb … under your tree."

"Good." The boy seemed content with that. And also eager to get away from them. "Don't let me see you doing that again. I got my eye on you, punk."

"Douche," Jason muttered under his breath as he walked away.

They turned on each other as soon as he was out of sight.

"Okay, what happe - " They both started simultaneously. And then, they both went pale.

"You don't know?"

" _You_ don't know?"

"Fuck!"

"Dammit!"

Tim Drake ran his hand through his hair, then looked at it in disgust as if he hadn't expected all that gel. "Okay," he muttered, like someone talking themselves down from a panic attack. "Okay. I remember waking up on a pile of books in a study room. I went outside to see what was up, and I was … in this place, and then I caught a glimpse of myself in a glass door and I – "

He grabbed Jason's arm again, looking at him as if seeking comfort. In which case he was barking up the wrong tree, really. "Jason, I don't know what I did last night," he whispered. "That never happens to me. _Never_."

"Me neither," Jason admitted. Everything up to awakening underneath that tree was a fuzzy blur. 

Tim looked him up and down. "And … how are we the same age? It makes no sense!"

"Oh, right, _that_ makes no sense," Jason replied sarcastically. He brushed off Tim's arm and finally plucked that leaf from his cheek, frowning. "We weren't … together last night, were we? I mean, in the same spot?"

"No!" Tim protested, as if being in the same place as Jason would have been some sort of terrible misconduct on his part. "Why would we?"

"I don't know, Drake, geez. Calm down."

Jason narrowed his eyes and looked across the yard at the school building. It was a shoddy looking place; not terrible, not the kind of place you usually only got to see whenever Bruce Wayne was making rounds inspiring disadvantaged children or whatever. But humble, very humble and in need of some repairs, probably. It was eerily quiet, but that was most likely just because everyone had gone to class. He could see a math lecture being taught through one of the windows. There was a normal-looking teacher, talking to normal-looking kids. It all looked so very normal, and yet everything about this was wrong.

That was when he caught a glimpse of the sign over the main door.

" _Limbo_ High?" He muttered. "What the hell kind of name is that? Aren't schools named after people? Who's Limbo?"

Tim waved his hand dismissively. "It's supposedly because it's the traditional school dance or something, and they're very good at it," he said distractedly, as if he was just resigning himself to the fact that all of this was crazy, "There's a display in the main hall and a trophy case and everything. I saw it."

"That's ridiculous. Competitive limbo dancing is not a thing."

Tim looked at him with mad, fevered eyes. "Really, Jason? _That's_ the thing _you_ decide to get hung up on?"

Jason gritted his teeth and said nothing. Limbo. As in underworld. As in, the place where restless souls went when they had nowhere else to go.

"It's not just a dance. It has another meaning, you know," he pointed out.

Tim rolled his eyes at him, but his voice was tense. " _I know_." But then he bit his lip, turned to Jason, and abruptly said: "I'm glad you're here."

It sounded harsh, almost rude somehow. Jason cringed. He could tell how awkward it was for Tim to say that; probably as awkward as it was for him to hear it.

Tim looked embarrassed. "When I woke up here, I thought I was the only one," he explained. "And it made me feel …"

_Lost. Alone. Scared._

Jason knew. And he also knew what a bitch it was to admit that out loud. Especially if you were … them. He was also reminded that Tim Drake was younger than him, even though they were the same age now, somehow.

He cleared his throat. "'s always good to have someone to bounce ideas off of, right?" He said briskly, saving Tim – and himself – further awkwardness. He snickered. "And come to think of it, it's kinda funny."

The other boy frowned. "No it's not," he insisted.

"Is too," Jason said, as if they really were bickering siblings. "Look at you. Look at your _hair_." 

"Look at _your_ hair, Fonzie!" Tim shot back, but there was a miniature smile twitching around the fringes of his mouth.

"Let's agree that we both look fucking stupid."

"Fine. Your voice sounds odd like that," Tim told him dryly.

Jason, who hadn't paid attention to that till now, let out a groan. "Mine too, eh."

"Yes."

"Damn." 

He'd forgotten how much it had sucked to be a teen.

He hadn't been called 'punk' in so long.

"Anyway," Tim said, "I was going to head over to the registration office, to see if we're on … some kind of list." He sounded collected, but you could tell that he was dreading the outcome one way or the other. "You want to come?" He sounded almost shy when he asked Jason that.

Jason huffed. "Like I have anything better to do," he muttered, unwilling to admit that it was a good idea.

Tim nodded. Then he took a deep breath, and asked: "Jason, do you think we're dead? Honest answer."

It was like taking a hot needle to a raw, twitching nerve. Jason's eyes narrowed. "And how d'you suppose I would know that," he growled dangerously.

"I don't. Seriously. Honestly." Tim didn't look the least bit intimidated. He shrugged. "But it's something I'm wondering. Like you said, you're the only one I can bounce this stuff off of right now."

That was disarmingly sincere. And _practical_. Damn him.

Jason debated whether to tell him, or whether to throw caution out the window like he would a child molester, and slap him around for even bringing it up, school ground marshals be damned.

But he decided against it. Tim was right. They did have more pressing problems.

"No, we're not," he told him. "Death is - " He hesitated. "There's no _high school_ in death," he then went on, irritated. It felt nuts to even have to explain it. "Or green grass, or trees, or even obnoxious little twits you don't really wanna talk to. There's … nothing. That's what it is. A whole big slab of _nothing_."

He let out a sharp breath, and looked at Tim. Well. At least he'd gotten him to look uncomfortable now.

"Oh," was all that Tim had to say to that. "That's what I thought. One thing we can rule out, then. Good."

"Yeah. Ain't it great."

"I appreciate the honest input."

" _Drop it_." Jason avoided his gaze, and shot Limbo High a grimly determined look. "Now, d'you want to find out what's really going on?"

From the corner of his eye, he could see half a smile on Tim Drake's face. "I would like nothing more. Let's go."


	2. P.Y.T.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Warnings:** Contains one instance of gender swap (none of the Robins though), and lots of really silly shit. ^^*

They went to the registration office, where the secretary, a preppy blonde named Miss Maude, assured them that yes, they were properly listed as students at Limbo High, starting today. Then, she gave them a stern lecture because they'd apparently skipped Phys Ed this morning. Jason noted that Tim Drake looked genuinely guilty about having missed his bizarro class at Mindfuck High. That boy was pathological.

There was no info on how they got here, however, or who had brought them, or where they lived.

Jason flinched, hard, when Tim suddenly asked, all boyish innocence, "Do you need our folks to call in? To sort out the paperwork?"

It was tough to hear. To Jason, the mention of parental figures was like suddenly stepping on a wasp hiding in tall grass. He couldn't imagine it was Tim Drake's favorite topic, either. But he understood why he did it. They had to find out if they had parents in this twisted world, even if they were pod parents. If they did … if they did, Jason would manually remove _all_ the teeth from whoever had done this to them before he murdered that person.

First though, he'd go buy his pod person mother some flowers because he was, apparently, a sentimental buffoon.

The dream was soon crushed, however.

"Oh don't worry, honey," Miss Maude crooned, balancing an open binder in front of her ample cleavage. Jason would have considered hitting on her if he hadn't been dramatically underage right now. "Your guardian already took care of everything!"

Guardian.

Jason and Tim exchanged a look.

_Bruce?_

Tim Drake's fingers were twitching. Jason could tell it took him all the restraint he had to not hurl himself across the desk and tear that binder from her fingers and see for himself. 

There was no way for them to ask who the guardian was without looking like crazy people, amnesiacs, or tiny, shady undercover cops, so they thanked her and left the office. Though, only after Tim grabbed a brochure about afterschool club activities, asked if he could take it, and then stuffed it into his pocket when Miss Maude said yes.

"Aren't you _precious_ ," she called after him. "You'll have _so much fun_ here!"

It was lunch break by now, and the halls were swarming with students, comparing notes, chatting, flirting, hanging out at their lockers, and doing other normal-ish things.

They were the least normal thing here; it was freaky. 

Some of the kids were casting curious looks in their direction. Jason saw some dudes seizing them up, and some girls looking pretty interested, which made Jason, who'd left dating teenage chicks behind a long, long time ago, feel all kinds of creepy. Tim Drake was flat-out ignoring them while he marched down the hallway as if he had someplace to be.

"So," Jason shot up to him. "I'm sure we both know what's going to happen, right? We'll wait until everyone's left, and then break into that office."

"Keep it _down_ ," Tim told him through his teeth. "There's no point in bothering with the office, we'll sneak out and go look for _him_ right away."

The way he said that. Like Bruce Wayne, if he was even here, would wave some magic batwand around and make it all go away. It was grating.

Jason snorted. "Oh no, and _ditch school,_?" He teased.

Tim Drake in all seriousness looked conflicted for a second. "Yes. This is more important," he then concluded, as if it had been a question in the first place. Good lord.

They walked down the hall cautiously, as if they were moving through a herd of zombies. For all Jason knew, the other students _could_ be zombies. Or assassins. Pod People. Peter Pan's lost children. You never knew.

"Try to blend in," Tim whispered. Jason shot him a dirty look. Sure, like _he_ looked at all natural with that uncomfortable smile plastered across his face.

"Ever been the new kid in school, _precious_?" He sneered. "We're _supposed_ to look terrified."

"Are you?" Tim asked him promptly. "Terrified?"

He couldn't tell if Tim Drake was worried about him, or testing him, or making conversation, or what. Jason could accept that he and lil' preppy were a team now for the time being, but he still didn't feel like answering that.

So he deflected. 

"Hey." He pointed at the large sign ahead of them that invitingly spelled 'Cafeteria'. "Before we slip out, d'you wanna maybe grab some lunch?"

"Lunch?" 

He'd known that would throw Tim off. His lips stopped doing that freaky smiling thing and curled up in disapproval instead. But then, he opened his stupid mouth, and what he said was this: "Was that your attitude while you were working with Bruce, because that would explain a lot."

And Jason tripped him.

He didn't know why he did it. Oh, he wanted to hurt him, sure. But tripping him wasn't as straightforward as a punch, or as good a put-down as a slap, and yet, it was what he did. It was the shittiest, pettiest thing is body could come up with in that moment.

For a singular, beautiful moment, it looked as if the little snot would actually do a swan dive in the hallway, but _of course_ he didn't, of course a former Robin and current Red Robin didn't _fall_. Instead, he caught himself with ease and spun around, where he found Jason glaring at him.

"You don't get to _talk_ to me like that," Jason spat. He was shaking. At the same time, he knew it was ridiculously stupid to get this worked up over a low-level burn like that. But he was filled up to here with teenage hormones, transporting him back to a time where he'd woken up every day to the feeling of not being quite good enough.

"You don't … you don't _know_ ," he stammered, and he knew he was blushing, and he hated it. "You don't know _anything_!"

Tim Drake gave him the weirdest of looks. "Oh. I do know," he said cooly. "I've studied you."

And then, he anticipated the slap before it came, and snatched Jason's wrist out of the air in a grip that would've sent someone with a lower pain tolerance weeping to their mom, presuming they had one.

"No fighting, this is a school!" He hissed, like a hall monitor incarnate. "What are you, crazy? Wait, don't answer that. Do you want to get in trouble? Do you want to get detention? We don't have _time_ for this!"

"Let go." This was the third time today that Tim Drake tried to control his body with his stupid hands, and Jason was getting sick of it. "You started it!"

"I did not."

"Yeah? Is this how you always react when people ask you to lunch, because that would explain a lot."

"Tell you something," Tim Drake's right eyelid was twitching. It was still weird to see him without his mask, but Jason was already getting tired of his pointy face. Their little team-up was clearly not working. "We can go outside, we can find a rooftop, and settle this, but not here. Not now."

"That…" Jason licked his lips. "That's the first good idea I've heard from you today."

"I strongly disagree, but fine."

" _Fine_."

"F - "

This would have probably gone on for a while, if they hadn't suddenly heard a familiar, melodic laugh wavering out of the cafeteria.

Familiar; but different.

Jason blinked. A chill went down his spine. "Was that…?"

"Yeah." Tim Drake looked like a ghost had passed through him.

"We have to -"

"I know."

He let go of Jason's wrist, and weaseled his way towards the cafeteria entrance. "Sorry about that," he whispered over his shoulder, as an aftherthought.

Jason went after him. "Yeah, yeah. Shove it up your ass."

He'd barely entered the cafeteria when he bumped into Tim again, who stood, frozen and apparently in awe.

And Jason could clearly see why. 

"Oh fuck me," he groaned.

Seeing Tim Drake as a teenager had been a shock, but not that much of a shock; because Jason had _seen_ him as a teenager, back then when he'd _totally not stalked him_. But seeing … him …

It was unreal.

Dick Grayson looked like something straight out of a 50's cereal commercial, in his crisp blue shirt and a sportive cream-coloured sweater draped around his shoulders, with his smooth face and charming mop of hair. Jason noticed that his hair must have been really tidy at some point, but Dick had mussed it; it had probably been the first thing he'd done.

He was sitting at one of the tables, surrounded by an entire flock of adoring boys and girls; like he was holding court. Jason even spotted the hunky school grounds marshal, who was staring at Dick like he was the catnip. Everyone was practically hanging on his lips as he related some anecdote.

"… and then, we try to row back to shore, right? We're soaked to the bone, all of us, and then suddenly, she loses her bikini top – no, Becky, I didn't peek! I told you, I'm a perfect gentleman …"

Dick gave the girl named Becky a cheeky wink, and waited for the laughter to subside. Jason gaped at him. Why were these people laughing so hard, anyway? The story didn't seem _that_ great. How did he do it? Was it his hair? His shiny teeth?

"Can you believe that fucking guy?" He muttered to Tim, anger replaced by very familiar frustration for the moment.

"No," Tim Drake said. "No...but that's just him." He let out an exasperated sigh. "Let's go say hello."

Nobody paid attention to them when they approached the table, way too caught up in the re-telling of Dick Grayson's Amazing Beach Babe Adventure. That was, nobody except for Dick.

"…so we all fall over ourselves to fish for the top, rocking the entire boat again, and then of course the dog chooses that moment to _jump_ \- "

That was when he spotted them. His bright blue eyes went saucer-wide. He closed his mouth. He opened it again. Then he closed it again. And then, he proved to the Limbo High cafeteria and the whole word that he was so much better at fake-smiling than Tim Drake.

"Hey you guys!" He greeted them, three octaves too high and three notches to chipper, "I was wondering where you were! Because I'm … absolutely not surprised, or shocked, to see you here!"

This prompted the other teens at the table to take a look at Tim and Jason. School grounds marshal started to frown. "You know these fellas, Richard?" He growled.

"We're brothers," Dick, Jason and Tim said without hesitation.

It was … all things considered, it was kind of a beautiful moment.

"Well." School grounds marshal pointed at Jason, "That one's a troublemaker."

Dick put a friendly hand on the dude's shoulder, which seemed to appease him right away, like Dick's hands were made of magic. "Nah, he's a total sweetheart, really," he said, winking at Jason, who scowled at that. "Give him a chance, Marshall!"

"Marshall?" Jason crossed his arms, smirking. "You call yourself school grounds marshal, _and_ your _name_ is Marshall?"

The gorilla glared at him and seemed ready to flip a table. "You think that's funny, punk?!"

"Whoa there!" Dick had truly mastered the art of sounding super-nice even when he raised his voice. He patted Marshall's shoulder like you would an unstable rottweiler's, but Jason knew that Dick's hand could turn into a deadly kung-fu grip in a matter of seconds. Pfft. Like Jason needed any help against a schoolyard bully like that. 

"Hey, listen," Dick spoke up before the hostilities could break out for real. "It was real fun getting to know y'all. Becky. Marshall. Gwynnifer. Brett. Stan. Wendy. Pippin. Glitter. Shortstack. Bluto. Marten. Peter, Tony, Steve … but would you guys mind if I spoke to my brothers alone for a moment?" He capped it off with the sweetest of apologetic smiles. "We're new, and we have a lot of stuff to discuss. You know. _Normal_ type stuff."

The kids collectively "awwwed", but apparently nobody could say no to him.

"We still need the ending to that story, though," Betty chirped as she turned away. "I insist."

Dick gave her a wide smile. "Later. Guaranteed!"

"See you around, Richard," said one of Marshall's hunky friends, who looked about ready to propose to Dick. "And think about what I said! Our Limbo League needs swell guys like you!"

"I will," Dick promised as he waved to his new friends and Jason wondered what issue of "Teen Romance" he had stepped into.

The carefree smile dropped off Dick's face as soon as they were gone.

"Oh god, I'm so glad you're here!" He blurted out. "I mean. Not really, because we're obviously in trouble, but I thought I was the only one, and it freaked me out."

Jason pointed a thumb after Dick's new fan club still giggling in the distance. " _That's_ you when you're freaking out?"

Dick gave him a stern look, which didn't jibe at all with his boyish, sixteen year old face. "Making new friends is an underestimated skill, Jason," he pontificated. "Getting to know the people here can't hurt. Oh, and - "

He made a serious face as he beckoned them to come closer. "I've already found out that the coach might be turning the boys to the dope!" He whispered. "Guys, we _have_ to do something about this –"

Jason looked at him, stone-faced. "Forget it. I'm not here to re-enact your favorite Hardy Boys adventures with you."

"Backburner, Dick." Tim sat down across him. "This place might not even be real. We need to find out who brought us here, who else might be there, and then figure out how to get back." He paused. "And … before we leave, we can look into the dope thing if you want," he offered as a concession.

Jason still stood, his arms crossed. "That was bullshit just now," he said poutily. "That story you told 'em. There's no way that really happened to you."

"Oh, it did." Dick flashed him a mischievous smile, reminding Jason that he wasn't _actually_ a blow-dryed ditz. "I just replaced 'burning helicopter' with 'banana boat', and 'her right arm' with 'her bikini top', and it totally happened to me. Come on, sit with us."

It was hard to turn down an invitation from Dick Grayson, even if your relationship with him was kinda complicated. Jason shrugged and sat down. They stuck their heads together.

"Dick, do you have any idea what you did last night?" Tim asked hopefully.

Dick looked embarrassed. "No I don't, actually. And that's weird. That hasn't happened to me since college when I ate that brownie and spent the rest of the night hugging everyone. Or so I'm told."

Tim seemed disappointed, thought not surprised. "Yeah, we don't, either. But there might be a lead. We went to registration, and - "

"You?" Dick looked and Jason and Tim, mouth twitching. "You two did something together? Aw, I like it!"

Tim impatiently waved his hand. "Yes. And then we nearly tore each other's heads off. Anyway, not important. Listen, the school secretary told us we have a guardian."

"A guardian." Jason could see a mix of hope and apprehension cross Dick's face. "Really? Do you think it might be – "

"Excuse me," a soft voice said.

Startled, they turned around. Behind them stood a very pretty, raven-haired girl with sharp features and a ponytail. She seemed awfully old-fashioned in her elegant blouse, sweater vest and modest black skirt. She also carried a tray completely stacked with tater tots, which she was very purposefully pointing in their direction.

She started to beam as soon as they'd turned to her. "It's really you! What a relief. I've brought some food. It's not much, but I've tasted it, and I can assure you it's at least safe for consumption."

The boys simply stared at her.

Jason was the first to throw his hands in the air. "Okay, I give up." He announced. "I've been trying to go along with this, but I don't know who _that_ is."

Tim Drake observed her with narrowed eyes, as if he had a suspicion; but he said nothing.

"Oh dear." She bit her lip. "I should have known. Of course this would be confusing. It's me, Alfred."

Stunned.

Everyone at the table was stunned.

The girl let out a sigh, and then she used the ensuing silence to sit down at their table, placing the tater tots in the middle with a flourish that was, indeed, reminiscent of a trained butler.

"All right then," she said, straightening her skirt. "You," she pointed at Jason. "Owned 18 pairs of sneakers when you were a boy, but they all had to be some shade of either green, black, or red, or you wouldn't wear them."

Jason huffed. "That proves nothing," he told her. "Like I remember how many sneakers I had."

She looked a little heartbroken, but then she turned to Dick. "Your favorite brand of toothpaste was 'Schroeder's Finest' which was sadly discontinued eleven years ago," she said. Then, she pointed at Tim. "Your favorite breakfast food is warm scones with salted butter."

She smiled wistfully. "And you all would always pretend to like my waffles, even though I'm aware they are less than stellar."

There was a moment of complete silence.

And then, Tim was the one who said it: "Okay. I think this is Alfred."

She breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh thank god!"

Jason frowned at her. "Why didn't you just say, I dunno, 'Bruce Wayne is Batman'?" He wondered.

She gave him a scolding look. "In _public_?"

It was totally Alfred.

She folded her hands in her lap. "I have to say," she said, her eyes shimmering. "Despite the circumstances, it _is_ a delight to see you all like this. So many memories, all in one place."

Nobody said anything. Alfred Pennyworth was here, and he was also a sixteen year old girl. They couldn't stop looking at her. At the same time, it was really weird to look at her. 

"Boy," she said after a while. "This is awkward, isn't it."

"Alfred," Dick still looked like he'd been hit with a sack of bricks. "Why … are you hot? I mean, girl. Why are you a girl?"

She blushed. "Wouldn't I love to know, Master Richard. I awoke on a bench in the school yard like this. It was quite unsettling at first. I've been sixteen before, but at no point in my life have I ever been a woman. However, I have to admit – it's … it's nice to be young again." Her face lit up. "Oh, you boys _have_ to see this!"

She hopped off the bench, and then flipped into a perfect handstand, holding her skirt between her legs so it wouldn't fall.

"I haven't been able to do this in years!" She declared.

Jason snickered. "Alfred's pretty stacked," he whispered.

Tim elbowed him. "Shut _up_ ," he whispered back, mortified.

"I'm right, though."

"Ah!" She came back to her feet and sat back down, collecting herself like a proper lady. "That was nice. Anyway, back to the more pressing matters at hand." She looked at all of them in turn. "We have to find out what caused this predicament. I'm willing to provide any help I can. Though …" She smirked. "For the time being, this is quite refreshing. Some of the lads here even invited me to something they call a 'kegger'…"

"You're not going!" They all said at once.

"Of course not." She cocked an eyebrow. "It's still me. Don't worry, I've been young before, I know all the pitfalls inside and out. But I'm very moved by your concern. Now really, won't _anybody_ eat those things?"

They each took a few tater tots to please Alfred (which had been a good idea after all, because they'd been too distracted to notice how hungry they were), and then went back to discussing their actual situation. They didn't get too far, though, before they were interrupted again. At least this time it wasn't the Black Mask who'd been transformed into a talking bear or something.

It was one of the kids from before, a stunning black girl in a cheerleader uniform with a distinct Prom Queen vibe around her, closing in on Dick Grayson like a guided missile.

"Richard," she purred.

"Hi!" Dick looked up, quickly covering up the very crude drawing of an inter-dimensional event they were working on. "Tiffany, right?"

"Gwynnifer."

"Aw, man." He scratched his neck in a perfect impression of charming flusteredness. "It's my first day. Can you possibly forgive me?"

She shot him a flirty smile. "All is forgiven," she said breathily. "So. I was wondering if you'd like to stick around after class? I thought you'd might want to take a look at our … extracurricular activities."

To Jason's relief, Dick looked appropriately appalled at being asked out by a teenager. "I, um … gee, Gwynnifer, I -"

"I'm interested," Tim piped up, waving his brochure around in a way that made clear he _actually_ wanted to look at the school clubs.

"Well?" She ignored him, still looking at Dick.

"I -"

"He can't," Alfred said briskly. "He has to study after class. I can't leave him off the hook, I'm very sorry."

Gwynnifer seemed to finally take note of the fact that there were others at the table. She gave Alfred a critical examination. "Who're you?" She asked cooly. "Can't say I've seen you before."

"I'm his tutor," Alfred told her with a sardonic smile. "I'm very strict."

"He's … she's very strict," Dick agreed, looking grateful.

Alfred and the girl stared each other down for a while, until Gwynnifer had to admit defeat. For now.

"Too bad," she pouted. "You're missing out." She scrunched up her nose, taking another curious look at the three boys. "You guys _really_ look awfully similar, you know that?" she remarked. "And you're the same age, too. What are you, triplets?"

"Yes!" Dick hurried to confirm. "That's exactly what we are! Crazy, isn't it? We should join the circus or something."

Under the table, Jason kicked his shin.

"Aha." Gwynnifer turned to leave, but then she seemed to remember something.

"You sure you don't mean quadruplets, though?" She asked. "Because I saw another new kid this morning. A boy, black hair, blue eyes, a lot like you. A little more tanned, maybe. Come to think of it, he looked kinda scary; and pretty mad. Anyway, guess you know better how many brothers you have than I do. Laters!"

As she walked away, Dick Grayson had turned as pale as a sheet. Jason knew exactly what he was thinking. And the way their day had gone until now, he was probably right.

"God help us," Dick whispered. "We have to spread out, and find him. We have to find him _right now_."


	3. A Game Of Balls

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, I'm the absolute worst. I still cannot guarantee that this story will be updated regularly, or even continued, but ... I really felt like working on it again, so here's at least a new chapter? This doesn't have much of a plot anyway (though I have some thoughts on what's happening), but I hope it's at least a little fun to read!

Darn it.

Dick's thoughts were racing while his feet were doing the same, and they were all revolving around the same thing (his thoughts, not his feet):

_Boy oh boy, Damian's going to tear the place down._

Darn it to _heck._

The bell was sounding above him. They'd miss class again, but somehow that problem didn't seem top pick on the menu right now. He could hear the hasty footsteps of the others, keeping up with him with … no trouble at all, because they were a group of fairly sportive boys and a teenage Alfred. After a little pow-wow, they'd decided to stay together instead of splitting up, since Jason had pointed out that you didn't do that in these situations; granted, this seemed more like a high school flick than a slasher movie, but there was no way to be sure.

Oh golly gee willickers, this was bad. They had to find the aggrieved adolescent before they had a perilous pickle on their han – and _why_ was he thinking in these terms?!

Dick had never been a crude person. He didn't curse much, partly because he'd been raised by Bruce and Alfred (in a world where only the evildoers swore), and partly because he simply had other ways to express his anger. Why drop an f-bomb when he could stab the air with his finger, rage-flicflac across the entire room, or leap up the chandelier to brood? 

But this now, it seemed … a bit excessive. He wasn't a crude person, but he also wasn't a robot maid from a 60's TV show, or an alliteration addict – there it was again.

It was this place. This place was fudging with his mind.

He decided to put that little issue on the backburner, too. Finding Damian came first.

Dick stopped dead when he was faced with three corridors leading into three different directions. He could feel Alfred's soft bosom (gosh) bump into his back when the girl butler came to a halt behind him. 

"All right, fellas," Dick addressed the group, craning his neck like a startled fawn, "If you were a tempestuous mini-assassin with rage issues who abruptly woke up in an unfamiliar place in a body that's several sizes too big, where would you go?!"

His inquiry was met with silence, until Tim sourly said, "Well. Like I pointed out _five minutes ago_ when everyone started running, we _could_ head back to the registration office, figure out what class he took --"

"Hold that thought, pal." 

Dick raised a hand to silence him, because now he was hearing the faint weeping of terrified kids coming from the nearby gym. It sent his Damian senses a-tingling at once. "Nevermind. I think we found him. After me, gang!"

"Holy crap, was he really _like_ this?!" Jason grumbled behind him.

"Well – ", Alfred started, a smile in her voice.

They all bolted down the hall until they reached the open gym doors, stumbling onto a scene that was more or less what Dick had expected. Several shell-shocked looking boys and girls were forming a circle around one kid, who was pressing an entire towel to his face in an effort to stop his nose from bleeding.

When their little group arrived, Dick immediately found all their sad little faces turn in his direction, their teary, hopeful eyes trained on him. It broke his heart. Those poor kids! If he found the scoundrel that did th… oh right, it was probably Damian.

"Are you a school marshal?" One of the boys asked him in a squeaky voice, as if Dick totally _had_ to be. He didn't have it in him to disappoint the kid; and it also seemed like an easy lie.

"Yes," he said smoothly, putting his hand on the bleeding boy's shoulder. "You gonna be all right, buddy?"

"It was the new kid!" The boy wailed, taking the towel off his face so Dick could see, to his relief, that the bleeding had almost stopped; though the nose was now gaining a couple sizes. "I din't … I din't do nothin', I swear, we _all_ laughed, it was _so funny_ when he fell into the volleyballs tryin' that backflip …"

The other kids muttered in agreement, so it probably must've looked really funny. Dick frowned. Damian socking someone in the face for a minor slight seemed par for the course. Damian falling over doing a backflip … Dick was worried.

"I know 's bad to laugh at someone," the boy hurried to say, off of Dick's frown. "But he was _so clumsy_ , and he was _mean_."

Mean, yes. Clumsy, never. The plot thickened. Something was wrong with Damian, and they had to figure out what, before their boisterous brother raged all over the darn school.

"Coach Trix is already looking for him," the kid now announced, a vengeful glint in his eye that Dick couldn't really fault him for. "And the new boy's gonna be in _so much trouble_."

"He's my brother," Dick said solemnly, putting both his hands on the kid's shoulders to look at him with the most earnest expression. "I promise you, he will apologize, okay? I'm giving you the … uh, the _Dickster_ guarantee!"

He heard a strangled snort behind him that sounded a lot like Jason.

But it worked; somehow, it worked. The boy smiled at him despite the swollen nose. Dick put a fist up and offered it to him for a friendly bump. "All right, sport? No hard feelings?"

And the kid bumped it. 

Then, he pointed his finger down the hall. "He went that way," he told them.

"Thanks!"

"Thanks, Dickster!" All the kids retorted in unison as their little group raced off again, followed by a combined effort from both Tim and Jason not to break out into laughing fits.

"You're not a school marshal, Sir," Alfred pointed out. "That's impersonating a school official."

"I can be a school marshal tomorrow if I want to," Dick replied dryly, staring straight ahead, fully focused on finding the runaway Robin. "Marshall thinks I'm the greatest."

Next to him, Jason snorted through his nose again, and then he didn't even _try_ not to sound bitter. "Damn. You were _that guy_ in school, weren't you. Fucking king of shit mountain. I cannot _believe_ your shtick worked on those kids."

"Neither can I. I was really unpopular in high school," Dick confessed, not losing a step. "Everyone thought I was a square and a lame-o. They only tolerated me because the girls and some of the boys thought I looked pretty."

That shut Jason up. Dick let him chew on that for a bit.

"I don't know," Tim now piped up. "If Damian really did hit that kid, and I don't think any of us doubt that he did … maybe he _should_ get in trouble. Maybe he _should_ learn that his actions have consequences in a civil setting like this. We could let the school handle it."

Like Jason before, Tim made no attempt to hide his hostility. Dick stopped dead in his tracks and turned around to him, feeling even twice as whelmed because he knew Tim had a point.

"Pfft, you mean Shady Pod People High?" Jason grumbled. "Don't think that's a good idea. I mean, not that I like the brat or anything," he quickly added when Tim shot him a look, "But _the Dickster_ is right, we should stick together 'til we know what's up."

Tim gave a petulant shrug, sharp eyebrows furrowing, and Dick was reminded that he'd been a _little_ less mature when he'd been sixteen, as well.

"Let me handle him, okay," Dick said quietly, pleadingly, feeling like they'd had this conversation many times. "I told you, that Coach is a creepshow, he's probably slinging drugs! And Damian's all alone, and he's probably scared, and he's _dangerous_ when he's scared. I can –"

"I know you can," Tim said briskly. "You're the Demon Whisperer. We know." He let out a frustrated sigh, which Dick felt was something Tim would probably be doing a lot more in their world, if he wasn't always so determined to play ball.

"Look, Dick, don't worry, I don't tattle, okay? And besides, we've found him, so my point is moot, anyway."

The other three looked around, momentarily surprised by that statement.

"You guys," Tim gestured to the side, too exasperated to enjoy the glory of spotting it first. "Over there. Or have you seen another wide-open window in this place before?"

*****

They resolved that Alfred would stand guard while Jason and Tim would rush off to distract Coach Trix if they found him, and Dick climbed to the roof to hopefully collect the wayward Wayne. (Boy, he sure wished his brain would stop doing that; even though a part of him found those irredeemably hilarious.) 

Then, they would all regroup at the library, where they could hang out as studious students without raising any eyebrows.

It seemed like a solid plan.

Dick felt good standing on a roof again, somehow. Much like a cat, he'd always felt better when he was above things, high up in the cool, fresh air, wind whipping at his face. It was … comforting. Even though the area he was overlooking – the school grounds, and a small town nearby – didn't seem at all familiar to him. It looked more like a Smallville than a Gotham or Bludhaven, though, which … he wasn't sure what to make of it.

The most important thing, however, was the pair of feet in sneakers he could see peeking out from behind one of the smokestacks. He felt a dash of pure, honest relief as he approached –

"Grayson," Damian barked at him, " _Go away._ "

Dick flinched. Damian's voice was … still Damian's voice, kinda, but where Tim's and Jason's voices had gone up since their ages were reversed, Damian sounded … so much deeper. Dick had been prepared for that, but it was still strange to his ears.

He tried not to let it show. "You know I can't do that. Now, don't freak out," he instructed his former Robin, slowly moving closer. It occurred to him that hearing his teeny tiny sixteen year old voice had to be as freaky to Damian as it was to Dick to hear him talk like an older boy.

"Look, I know this is weird, but brooding on a rooftop will _not_ solve it this time. Or … any other time. Let's -"

"No!" Damian hissed, like a cornered cat. "Don't come closer! _Don't look at me!_ "

Dick's face fell. He eyed the frame behind the smokestack with concern. Now that he was closer, he could see a pair of hairy legs, being hugged by a pair of hairy arms. Damian never retreated inside himself when he was shaken up, he usually lashed out. Seeing him go into scared self-hugging mode was disquieting.

"I mean it, Grayson," Damian sounded grimly determined, which meant he was all kinds of upset. "Don't make me give you two black eyes so you _can't_ see, which is _honestly_ my next course of action!"

Dick huffed through his nose, and sat down on the other side of the smokestack. No peeking. For a moment, they sat there in silence, their backs turned. But Dick couldn't let this go on for more than a couple minutes. The others were waiting, and this whole place was looneytunes, and they needed to come up with a plan.

And he didn't want detention for hanging out on the roof, either.

"Hey," he said softly. "It's okay, I look ridiculous too. Wanna see?"

Damian sniffled; he _actually_ sniffled, and it pinched Dick's heart. "Don't even _try_ , Grayson. I've seen your school photographs. You were always handsome. As usual, you don't know what you're talking about."

"You…" Dick turned in surprise, both at Damian calling him handsome, and at Damian showing so much weakness; he really had to be rattled something fierce.

"Is that why you're really hiding up here, because you think you're ugly?" He asked gently. "Because every teenager thinks they're ugly, and they're not. I swear it's gonna be okay."

"It's not that," Damian insisted, sounding awfully defensive. But at least he was talking. "But I was _eleven_ yesterday. And today, I'm _sixteen_. I think. Do you know what's usually supposed to happen between these two things, Grayson, do you?"

"Well, um. I suppose a period of growth and experience, and …"

" _Puberty_ , Grayson. _Puberty_ is supposed to happen!" Damian sounded scandalized, and a little wounded. "It's a whole process, and I _skipped_ it! And now it's all … _I'm all different_."

Dick bit his lip. He felt bad for him; going back in age was one thing, but he couldn't even imagine what it felt like to get propelled into maturity like that. He didn't know how to comfort him. He wasn't sure that he could.

"Well, clearly not _all_ different," he tried to kid, "I mean, you _did_ offer me a shiner or two."

Damian huffed. And then he softly whined, "So much _hair_."

"I know, buddy, I know," Dick sighed, wishing he could pat him somehow without getting bitten. "I've seen Bruce in the nude, so …"

"You what?" 

At least that seemed to distract Damian from his own torment for a moment.

"I- um." Dick's face flushed. Boy, that had _not_ been a tactful thing to say at all. He cleared his throat. "Look, we're all on this glorious mission, and it involves a lot of costume changes, okay? We've _all_ seen your father naked. And trust me, it's not that bad."

"Hrm." Damian shuffled his feet. Dick noticed he was wearing worn-out sneakers, not at all the things that Dick imagined a teenage Damian to have.

"They made me wear _regulation gym clothes_ ," the boy now complained, but he seemed a little more accessible. "They're disgusting. And include _short shorts_. I cannot let you think I am wearing this by choice."

Dick chuckled. "I did a lotta good work in short shorts. I don't hafta tell you that, right?"

Damian groaned. "I',m not sure why you feel the need to remind me."

The banter seemed to make him cool off a little, though, which was good.

"You woke up in this place too, right?" Dick asked.

"Yes."

"And you have no memory of the previous night."

"No. I awoke in that repulsive locker room," Damian said. Dick heard the shudder in his voice. "I didn't even have time to process before some rude adolescent threw those shorts at me and announced a game of balls."

Dick shuddered along with him. He could only imagine how bad that had to be, waking up in a strange place, in a totally unfamiliar body, and then having to go to Phys Ed right away, which was every insecure teenager's worst nightmare.

"And then, in class, I … I realized something. My body wouldn't obey me," Damian went on, sounding so betrayed. "I have perfect control over my physical abilities, you know that. You've _seen_ me. But … b-but…"

"Of course," Dick interjected softly. "You were suddenly bigger. Heavier. You're not used to it."

"Yes. That," Damian admitted tinyly, slumping even further down.

It wasn't surprising, but for someone who took as much pride in being a perfect baby ninja as Damian, it had to hit hard.

"Oh Damian," Dick crooned.

"Don't patronize me! And by the way, your voice is _pathetic_!"

"Wait 'til you hear my singing voice," Dick told him, chuckling at the memory. "D'you know my old high school let me deejay a music program? I made up my own songs. Oh, the wedgies I dodged…"

Good grief, Jason and all his former schoolmates had been right. He _had_ been an insufferable little twerp. Good times.

"Stop reliving your glory days, Grayson, we need to come up with something!" Damian prompted him, but he seemed to feel better now that he was getting into mission mode. "I can't stay like this! I refuse to! There's a time and place for me to become a man, and it is not now!"

"I like that spirit. Does that mean," Dick asked cautiously, "You're okay with coming out now? It's cool. For realsies."

Damian blew a big huff of air (or rather, steam, from the sound of it) out his nose, but then Dick heard him get to his feet. He got up, as well. Slowly, they both turned, preparing to lay eyes on each other. 

When it happened, Dick had trouble controlling his face.

He was …

He was heart-wrenchingly adorable.

Damian at sixteen was a … compact kid. He had broad, meaty shoulders, arms and legs, all exposed in his flimsy tank top and short shorts. His limbs were dangling from his bulky frame as if he wasn't sure how to carry them yet. And he was definitely taking after Bruce in the hair department; in a few days' time, he'd probably sport a 'stache if they didn't get him a razor, or got him out of here.  
His face was … almost rugged, harsh, very cheekboned, and exceptionally grumpy, making him look even more like an offended Persian cat than he usually did. And he was the only one of them with what seemed to be a very rough case of acne. Of course, Dick thought. All of them had already gone through puberty, but Damian was forced to experience it all at once, which probably made his hormones go crazy right now. He looked pretty much like a normal, sulky teen, but having been an eleven year old yesterday, he probably felt like a monster.

However, his death glare had stayed exactly the same, and it warmed Dick's heart.

Damian glowered at him as if he was _daring_ Dick to make fun of him now, but Dick could sense his wariness and embarrassment beneath it. 

"Quit giving me that look," the kid grumbled. He almost raised his hand to touch his pimpled cheeks, but then didn't. He probably already knew not to touch those things.

Dick tried not to smile at him too hard. Damian's wariness was not needed. Dick thought him cute as a button, because he always thought that. This changed nothing.

"You're not focusing on the important thing here," he pointed out, raising his hand to his temple. "Damian. You're _taller_ than me."

Damian's rogueish face grew a little less scowly at that. "I … I _am_."

Dick grinned up at him. "Don't get used to it."

"I-" A grin spread across Damian's face as he looked down at himself in amazement. "I could … I could _carry_ you now, Grayson," he triumphed, with what Dick felt was a slightly mad glint in his eyes. "You know, I could probably _throw_ you!"

"Yeah. Yeah. Let's not, though." Dick put up his hands in defense. "Not now. We need to get down to the library to meet up with the others, and if you gave me the ol' bridal carry, we'd probably raise _a lot_ of eyebrows -"

"Wait. What others?"

The triumph on Damian's face was short-lived, instantly replaced by more scowling suspicion at Dick's words. Dick saw him clench his fists when a new horrific thought entered his mind. "Is … is _Father_ here?!"

"Oh, no. No no. Not him. It's just Jason, Tim, and … er, Alfred. Though, before you see Alfred, lemme …"

Dick didn't even get to explain the Alfred situation before Damian crossed his bulky arms in defiance. "I'm supposed to let Todd and Drake see me like this," he growled dangerously. Underneath the danger, Dick could feel again how nervous he was. Damian's exchanges with Jason mostly involved hurling bullets, knives, and insults back and forth, and his relationship with Tim … was even worse, somehow. 

"Damian, come on. They'll be, er …"

Dick would've liked to say that the two others were too classy to make fun of Damian in his new body, but his littlest brother hadn't exactly been skipping around Gotham building goodwill toward himself. However, their whole situation was too dire to invest time in that now.

"… waiting," he finished, lamely. "And we all really need to have a talk."

Damian hunched his shoulders – which looked way more dramatic than he probably meant to, since he had such big shoulders – and started brooding again. But after a few seconds of reflection, he "Hrm"ed again, pinching the bridge of his nose in a way that was eerily reminiscent of his father, now that he was older.

"Fine, just tell me one thing," he said, still pinching. "Are those two wannabes shorter than me, as well, or are they not?"

"They're not wannabes, Damian." Dick gave him a stern look. And then smiled, despite himself. "But actually, yeah. Yeah, they are."

"Then I'm coming." Dick watched as Damian pulled together all that was left of his pride, and marched back toward the ledge to climb down. "It should serve to assert my dominance to let them see that I will grow up to be taller than _both_ of them. And I will tell them exactly that."

"Yeah, I'm sure that'll go over well," Dick mumbled, but then he followed suit.


End file.
